Red Velvet Cupcake
by TeamGwenee
Summary: Drabble. A silly, fluffy fic for Valentines Day. Bedith. Now a series of drabbles and oneshots.
1. Valentines

It was an angel. A blessing. A red velvet cupcake. Light, topped with cream and homemade. Bertie made everything. The starter, the burgers, the chips. She ate until she swore to never eat again... then Bertie presented the cupcake.

Knowing that if she savoured it, the pain in her stomach would win and in one bite, she shoved it down her mouth. Frosted cream was smeared round her mouth. Delicious.

Bertie had surprised her. Edith forgot it was Valentine's Day. Every year it passed her by. Bertie kissed her gently.

But this year was different. This year she wasn't alone.


	2. Sick day

Bertie resisted the urge to flop down on the sofa and instead made his way to the bedroom. He leaned against the door and smiled fondly at the miserable lump on the bed. Edith's shivering body lay cocooned in her duvet, her head sticking forlornly out facing the TV. Her red, watery eyes were half closed as she peered at screen, watching the box set of 'Miranda' that Aunt Rosamund had dropped off that morning.

Bertie quietly made his way over to the bed and perched on the edge, running an affectionate hand over the lump. He squeezed Edith's shoulder before lying on the duvet next to her, slinging one arm over and wrapping it round. Bertie waited until the episode had ended and then leaned over to peck Edith on the check.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked her tenderly.

"No," came Edith's sulky voice. She turned over to face him. Her eyes were red and itchy, her blocked nose was pink, throat was sore and her lower lip stuck out in a pout. All in all, she felt very sorry for herself. Not only that, her forehead was sweaty and her hair was a birds nest. Edith that she looked how she felt, tired and disgusting.

Bertie bent down and softly kissed her on the lips. Edith lifted her hand and rested it on his neck. Bertie smiled as he broke away. He gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ears and smiled down at her.

"What about now?" he asked, "Do you feel any better now?"

Edith smiled back up at him.

"No," she said, turning back to the TV as the next episode came on, "But some of that leftover lasagne might do the trick. Go heat some up for me,"

Bertie grinned and headed to the kitchen, ready to do as Edith asked. Anything for his girl.


	3. Horses

(Part of the world 'The Burgundy Room' is set in, based on my headcanon that Bertie taught Edith to ride,)

"Come on Edith," Bertie ordered as he watched Edith be jolted awkwardly from the saddle. "Rise to the trot,"

"What does that even mean?" Edith wailed as she was thrown up from her saddle.

Bertie shrugged. Riding horses was just something that came naturally to him. He smiled as the pretty Dun horse Bertie had brought Edith specifically for her obedience and sweet temperament gradually slowed to a walk and began to plod along, ignoring Edith's commands. Fudgie easily pulled her head down, the reins slipping through Edith's fingers like water. Clearly riding wasn't something that came easily to Edith.

"Why didn't your father have you taught? I wouldn't think it possible for an Earl's daughter with a country estate to never ride," Bertie asked as he watched Edith tug uselessly at her reins, Fudgie ignoring her completely.

Edith scowled. "I did have lessons, but I was hopeless so Papa rather gave up on me," she squeezed Fudgie with her legs, only to be ignored completely. She could never handle horses. A mixture of fear of hurting the horse and the horse hurting her had prevented her ever learning to properly work with one. Although she could not deny that the beautiful Dun Bertie had brought her was incredibly sweet. Rather like her husband.

Having succeeded in the momentous task of trotting all the way round the school and even cantering for a few bumps, Edith thankfully dismounted and handed the reins over to Bertie.

"I hate horse riding," she mumbled.

Bertie shot her a horrified look. "Don't say that in front of Fudgie!" he protested, "You'll hurt her feelings,"

"Don't be silly. She doesn't understand a word," Edith protested, but quickly gave Fudgie an affectionate stroke on the neck just in case.

"Why do you so desperately want me to learn to ride anyway?"

Bertie just smiled. "I just thought it could be a nice thing to do together," he replied.

A mischievous grin slid onto Edith's face. "I can think of much more fun thing for us to do," she said.

Bertie smiled back. "Oh yes," he said, "Like what?"

Edith smirked, "You'll see," she replied.

Two hours later the pair were sat in the corner of the village pub, beer dribbling down their chin and gasping for breath. Several empty beer glasses stood before them. Edith raised one in a toast.

"See!" she cheered in a slightly slurred voice, she wiped her mouth, "I told you I could think of more fun things for us to do!"


	4. Flowers

Edith smiled as she took in the smell of the flowers. The florist shop was small and slightly crowded. As well as the florist and her assistant, Edith was joined by her mother, Aunt Rosamund, Cousin Isobel and Mary. As her companions debated over freesias-for innocence, (both Edith and Mary sniggered), or orange blossoms-for fertility, ("Not that Edith needs help for that!" Mary remarked quietly), Edith wondered off on her own.

She paused as she reached the roses. She absentmindedly plucked a white rose and held it against the red. Deep scarlet petals coaxed out a soft pink tinge of the white rose. The florist appeared at her elbow and clucked disapprovingly.

"You don't want red and white roses your Ladyship," she said, "They're bad luck! Blood and tears,"

Ah, bad luck. Edith thought. She knew all about that. She turned her head to check if the others had overheard. If they had heard, they would not only have refused to buy them, but would have burnt the shop to the ground. Her family was so fearful of any potential bad luck falling upon the couple they had grown slightly manic. Every precaution had been taken. Bertie and Edith would be prevented from seeing each other from a week until the wedding, just in case. Cora insisted that her garter be trimmed with blue lace for her something new and blue and Granny had gifted her a beautiful pair of antique earrings for her something old and borrowed. And not only was Bertie prevented from seeing the dress, lace doilies with a slightly similar pattern to her gown had been hidden from sight. The dress itself had been delivered under the cover of night, despite Bertie being safely away in Northumberland.

Edith felt a ripple of defiance. Unlucky or not, the red and white roses looked very pretty. She spoke up in a firm voice, "I would like the red and white roses please,". Whatever the others said, she liked the roses more than any other flower in the shop. And besides, Edith thought as she ran a finger over the velvety petals, she didn't need any luck.


	5. Stake-out

(Modern AU in which Tom and Matthew are overprotective Brothers in law. Slightly crackish.)

Matthew had protested, but Tom put his foot down.

"A stake out is not a stake out," he explained, "Without sunglasses, or leather jackets,"

However, as Matthew pointed out, the sunglasses made looking through the binoculars (again, not a stake out without them) very difficult. In the end they reached a compromise. The sunglasses were kept ready at hand for them to put on in slow motion (Matthew had the appropriate badass rock music on pause for when the moment came) but off so as to keep their vision unimpaired. After all, it was vitally important for all their senses to be alert. They had to be at the top of their game. Especially considering the failures their last missions had been.

For half an hour they watched from their car the Subject and the Target sitting together by a cafe window.

Matthew slammed hiss fist against the wheel.

"Goddamit!" he swore, "This is useless. Why are we still doing this? Observational tactics have never worked,"

"You think we should make contact with the Target?" Tom asked.

"Absolutely. All we ever did was watch the last few Targets, and that never got us anywhere. By the time we gathered enough data it was too late to intervene,"

Tom nodded in agreement. "I agree. We need to find a plausible excuse to approach the Target, preferably on his own. But how can we keep the Subject from seeing him?"

"Don't worry about it," Matthew smiled.

"Have you got a plan?"

"Oh I've got a plan,"

And with that, the two whipped out their sunglasses and slowly put them on. Matthew jabbed the CD player several time.

"Bugger!" he muttered, "The bloody CD is stuck,"

DADADA

"That's brilliant!" Tom cried as he heard Matthew's master plan.

Matthew beamed. "I know,"

"Now all we need to do is make sure we ask questions that cover every base without giving away what we are doing,"

Matthew nodded. "We can't make the same mistakes last time. God knows Edith has had enough bad luck with men. I refuse to let her have her heart broken by another man who can't commit because of insecurities about his age,"

"Or because of his wife," Tom added.

"Or is willing to commit... despite his wife,"

"And definitely no more Canadian Con-men!"

DADADA

"But why?" Mary scowled, as Matthew tucked a lock of hair behind a ear.

"I just think it will do you and Edith some good to spend time with each other,"

Mary rolled her eyes.

"And what should I say to her? Just randomly tell her I want to have a girl's day with her. She'd think I am plotting something, or had been abducted by aliens,"

"I'm sure you can think of some excuse. Haven't you got to get her a bridesmaid dress?"

Mary grimaced. "I've been putting it off. She's so difficult to dress," she turned to face Matthew. "What is this really about. Is this something to do with the fact that Edith has been sneaking off a lot lately?"

Matthew smiled bashfully but didn't answer, "Please?" he begged.

Ten minutes later, Matthew was grinning as he listened to Mary order Edith to cancel any plans she had on Saturday to attend a Bridesmaid dress fitting at Harrods with her and Cora.

"I don't care if you're busy!" Mary snapped, "It was a miracle that I could book a fitting at all. Yes, it is vital that a dress is ordered this weekend. Look, just stop complaining. You're coming whether you like it or not. The fitting is at ten and we are having afternoon tea at two,"

Mary raised an eyebrow as Edith spoke. She groaned. "No Edith, we cannot have tea at the Disney cafe!"

Matthew stifled a laugh as he heard Edith's request.

Mary rolled her eyes again. "No Edith, you're right. We never do what you want. That is because what you want is to eat at the Disney cafe! Now stop moaning and just make sure that you are there on time,"

Mary slammed the phone down and turned to glare at Matthew.

"You owe me," she hissed.

Matthew suddenly felt rather sorry Edith.

DADADA

Come Saturday, Edith also felt sorry for herself. Despite the beautiful weather, she was stuck in Harrods all day with her wedding mad mother and Bridezilla of a sister. She had spent the afternoon being poked and prodded as Mary complained about the difficulty of finding Edith a dress that wasn't completely wasted on her. Edith felt close to screaming by the time a pretty aqua dress with light gold embroidery was selected. At least Cora liked the dress. She said it made Edith look like a mermaid.

Despite Edith's protests that if she looked like a mermaid, then the Disney cafe was the only suitable place for them to eat, for some reason neither Cora nor Mary agreed. Instead, she found herself stuck in the Georgian cafe as Mary and Cora discussed seating plans. And to think she could have spent the day with Bertie. Edith stared longingly at the clock on her phone. How she wished the day would end.

DADADA

Matthew and Tom eyed the Subject over their clipboards. He was sitting alone in the sandwich shop, chewing his panini as he read a magazine. After spending some time assessing the Subject, they approached.

"Excuse me," Tom said, "I don't suppose you could spare us a minute of your time?"

"We are conducting a survey," Matthew added.

The Subject smiled politely. "What is the survey about?"

DADADA

Finally, Edith had reached the sanctuary of her flat. Thank God! She shut the door behind her with a sigh of relief. Looking at her phone, she saw that Bertie had tried to call her.

"Hi Edith," Bertie said, "how was your day?"

"Ugh," Edith groaned, "I had to spend it with my family,"

Bertie clicked his tongue sympathetically. "As though the people were aren't related to aren't already enough of a nuisance,"

Edith flopped down on the sofa, kicking off her shoes.

"And you?" she asked, "How was your day?"

"Weird," was Bertie's reply.

"Weird how?"

"I was doing a survey for two guys who came up to me-"

"You actually spent your time answering a survey! God, you're practically Jesus,"

"And they asked me all these weird, personal questions,"

"What, like bank details and stuff?"

"No, nothing like that! No, questions about my personal life. Like if I had a wife or a girlfriend,"

"Well that's not that weird,"

"Or if I had a wife _and_ a girlfriend,"

"Oh," Edith replied.

"Or if I had a wife or a girlfriend or a wife and a girlfriend, but was secretly also a homosexual,"

"I see,"

"Or if I was in a relationship, would I be likely to leave my bride at the altar due to crippling self-esteem issues,"

"Hmm," Edith murmured.

"Or if I was a Canadian Con-man!"

"A Canadian Con-man?" Edith repeated.

"Yes," Bertie confirmed.

"Bertie, I'm afraid that I am going to have to call you back,"

"Oh? Nothing serious I hope,"

"Oh no," Edith reassured him, "I just have to see and kill some guys,"

Bertie was silent for a moment. "Alright then," he said, "Do you want help hiding the bodies?"


	6. Preparation

Edith drummed her fingers against her dressing table in excitement. She was practically jumping in her seat. She caught Baxter's eye in the mirror and smiled. Baxter smiled back, carefully running a brush through Lady Edith's knotted hair, smoothing it out until it fell softly over her shoulders. Baxter caught a glance at Lady Edith's reflection. She saw her bright eyes, the look of complete joy on her face and the way her creamy skin seemed to glow.

To Baxter, that was how a bride should look.

Behind them stood Lady Grantham, Lady Mary, Lady Rose and Lady Rosamund. Lady Grantham had woken early in order to help Lady Edith dress. Hanging on the wardrobe was a stunning lace gown and veil, together the price of which could pay for a house on Mayfair. Indeed, the wedding budget had been immense. Although a large wedding could not have been avoided, Lord Grantham had certainly gone all out for his little girl's special day. Lady Edith herself would probably have been content with a ceremony and reception in a pig pen, provided the groom (and the cake) remained the same.

And there was somewhere a bit more hygienic to eat the cake.

The Ladies talked of the arrangements for the flowers and food as Baxter pushed the last of Lady Edith's curls up. Edith beamed at her reflection, turning her head this way. The rest of the Ladies and Baxter left to finish dressing, Baxter promising to be back soon to help Lady Edith finish.

Having dressed, Lady Grantham and Baxter returned to help Edith into her gown.

"Actually Miss Baxter," Lady Grantham said, "if it would be alright I would like to help Lady Edith myself,"

Baxter smiled and left. Now alone, Cora moved forward to pull Edith into a warm hug.

"Oh Darling," she sighed, "I am so happy for you,"

Edith laughed, "I'm rather happy too Mama. I rather expect to find myself waking from a dream any second. And it's not just thinking about today that makes me feel that way. Just the thought of being with him, for the rest of our lives," Edith shook her head, "I think of the future we will have and the family we will make. It's too good to be true,"

Cora pushed a stray hair away from Edith's face. "But it is true my Darling. I know you two will be very happy," she broke away from Edith and chuckled, "And goodness knows your Father is cock-a-hoop!"

Edith began to untie her dressing gown, still grinning from ear to ear. "All that free shooting,"

"He was practically dancing a jig when you announced the engagement. He's so happy to see you with someone you love,"

Edith shot Cora a mischievous look, "The fact I'm also with someone with a title doesn't hurt,"

"No, I suppose not,"

"I would marry Bertie just as easily were he a milkman," Edith said as she shrugged her gown off, "But I do appreciate the irony that the plain one makes the grandest match,"

"Whatever do you mean?" Cora asked as she slid the gown over Edith's head, "You were never plain,"

Edith didn't respond. "And you Mama?" she asked, "Are you happy?"

"Oh Sweetheart!" Cora cried, "I couldn't be happier. I see the way Bertie looks at you and I can't think of a better man for my daughter," at this Cora's cheery manner broke off, and her voice became slightly huskier, "even if he is taking you all the way to Northumberland,"

Eyes welling with tears, Cora busied herself helping Edith with her veil. Without saying a word, Cora carefully moved Edith towards the window so the sun was streaming in behind her. She picked up Edith's bouquet and handed it to her, before standing back to take in the full picture.

"You look beautiful," she sighed, the tears finally making good on their threat and running down her cheeks.

"Come along now," she said softly, "You're father is waiting,"


	7. Baby Boy

Bertie had been banished. When the labour pains had started and Edith was sitting comfortably in bed, reading a book and only feeling slight discomfort, Bertie had been panicking and making a nuisance of himself. So both he and Robert had been sent to take Marigold on a day out. Edith had been left with the midwife, Mother Pelham and Cora. Although initially glad to be surrounded with the more sensible and experienced veterans of childbirth, Edith found herself regretting her actions. As the pain increased, all Edith could think about was how she wished Bertie was there. Instead of her. He could enjoy the pain of having a baby be pushed from his body and she could go and spend time with her little girl. How had she forgotten how painful it was the first time?

"Alright your Ladyship," the Midwife said calmly, "I need you to push now,"

Edith cried out something that her companions didn't completely understand, but sounded suspiciously like a death threat.

"What was that?" Cora asked as she squeezed Edith's hand.

Mother Pelham calmly fed Edith a chip of ice sent from the kitchen. "I am not quite sure, but it sounded like something to do with a watermelon, a rusty chain and my son's private parts,"

Usually Mrs Pelham would have objected to such vulgarity, and the fact her son had been threatened with bodily harm, but she could remember having a child herself and as a result felt no need to comment.

Finally, after a great deal of screaming and crying, the baby emerged.

The midwife gently picked the mewling thing up and wrapped it in a towel.

"A boy, your Ladyship, a beautiful boy!"

The new Grandmothers cooed over the baby, before handing him over to his exhausted mother. Despite aching all over, Edith reached out for him and beamed into his face.

"Hello my darling," she said, gently rocking the wailing child.

Word had been sent to fetch Marigold and the gentleman. By the time they reached the castle, Mother and baby had been cleaned and dressed. Whilst Donk and Marigold waited eagerly outside to meet the newest member of the family, Bertie rushed in. His hair was flying and his face red. But as he saw his wife sitting in bed, holding a bundle of blankets, he slowed down and walked towards the bed in reverence.

Edith titled a tired head to smile at him, and he leant down to give her a tender kiss on the lips. Wordlessly, Edith handed Bertie his sleeping son. Bertie sat on the bed, his hands shaking slightly as he took in the sight of his baby boy.

"Oh Edith," he whispered, "he's perfect. Thank you so much my Darling"

Edith just smiled wanly, too tired to talk. Bertie turned round to face her, eyes welling with tears. He scooted closer so Edith could see their son's face. "He's beautiful," Bertie murmured.

"He is, isn't he," Edith agreed quietly. She smiled up at Bertie through a sleepy haze as he reached over to kiss her on the forehead.

"He really is beautiful," she yawned, before rolling onto her side to get some sleep.

Bertie was so overcome, he barely heard Edith's next words, which were muttered through a yawn.

Although he swore she said something about sparing him the watermelon.


	8. Anniversary

Bertie waved goodbye and ushered Edith out of the club, anxious to get home. With no taxis in sight, they were resigned to walking. Edith giggled as she collapsed against Bertie's side. Her once immaculate hair was now in disarray and her make-up (particularly her lipstick) was smudged. One of the straps of her pretty black party dress had snapped and her bra would have been on show if Bertie had not leant her his blazer. Bertie grinned as Edith buried her head in his chest, and wrapped his arm round her shoulders.

The party had been quiet something. Edith had a rather tough week at work and so was eager to enjoy herself. With Marigold at her Granny's, Edith was free to kick back and go a bit wild. She had challenged Tom and Matthew to piss off (drinking them both under the table), danced barefoot on the bar and ended up passed out under a table.

Bertie himself had a beer or two, but clearly held his alcohol better than Edith, who was now singing show tunes in a warbled voice. She tried to throw out her arms as she reached the climatic note in 'Defying Gravity', only to stumble in her ludicrous heels and force Bertie to catch her.

"Darling," Bertie laughed, "Could you at least try to walk on your own?"

"I'll try," Edith promised, and tried to walk a few steps by herself, tripping over her own feet, "Nope!" she giggled.

Bertie scooped Edith into his arms and Edith slung an arm round his neck.

"You fwept me off my sheet," she slurred brightly.

Despite losing the power of speech and the ability to walk, Edith wasn't too drunk as to appreciate the warmth from Bertie's arms round her. The stars were out that night and the light from the street lamps shone spotlights on the couple. The cool night's air was fresh against Edith's hot cheeks.

By the time they reached the flat, the sky had turned pink and lilac. They stumbled through the door and fell upon the sofa, neither one of them could be bothered to go the extra few steps to get to the bedroom. Still on a buzz from the party, Bertie flipped on the TV and found a comedy show to fall asleep to.

Edith smiled contentedly and curled up against Bertie. She reached up to kiss his cheek.

"Happy Anniversary Darling," she yawned.

Bertie smiled back down at her. "Happy Anniversary Edith,"


	9. Hair

Once, when Edith was sixteen, she dyed her hair. Not all of it, she just gave herself some coloured streaks. Pink, blue, lilac and green. Mum and dad had been horrified, and Granny nearly had a stroke. Sybil thought it was excellent of course, and Mary had been unsurprisingly critical. To avoid a major blow out, Edith had told them that she been sponsored to do it for charity, which deflated dad's balloon of righteous fury somewhat. (She actually felt quite guilty for lying and ended up donating her all her Birthday money to the RSPCA).

And although dad winced whenever he looked at her, and Granny compared Edith to a hippy and Mary told her the dye looked cheap (it wash, the dye was washed out after a couple of washes), Edith liked it. She didn't dye it again, but a part of her was tempted to do so. She liked the way the colours made her complexion seem brighter and her dull locks look interesting.

She didn't like her hair looking like this though. Mary, in an uncharacteristic attempt of sisterly bonding, had offered to style it for her in preparation for Cora and Robert's anniversary dinner. It had taken two hours, and Mary certainly seemed impressed with her handiwork. Edith, however, felt decidedly uncomfortable. The pins dug into her head and Mary had been liberal in her use of product, making Edith's hair feel heavy.

But Mary had gone to a lot of effort, and everyone else had complimented her on the do. So Edith smiled and said she loved it. The reality was, she didn't. Not only was it uncomfortable, she just didn't think it suited her. She kept glancing at her reflection, trying to see what everyone else saw. It made her head look weird and her neck too long. She couldn't wait to rip the pins out and wash the goop from her hair.

"Oh, Edith darling, you look lovely," Cora cooed. Robert nodded in agreement. Granny inspected her approvingly and both Sybil and Rose complimented her whilst Mary smiled proudly. Even Matthew and Tom seemed to look at her differently. but Edith just didn't _like_ it.

The evening finally ended and Edith left for home. Bertie had stayed behind to look after a poorly Marigold and Edith was eager to join him. Entering the flat, she saw Bertie seeing her and wince slightly, before forcing the smile.

"You look great," he said.

Edith felt her lips twitching. "What do you think of my hair?"

"It's nice," Bertie replied in a slightly forced voice.

"You hate it, don't you?"

"It's not good," Bertie admitted.

Edith beamed and pulled him into her arms, planting a kiss on his lips.

"I knew I married you for a reason,"


	10. Dress

(AN: I'm having a bit of writer's block, so if you have any prompts please leave them in the comment section, I'll be delighted to hear them,)

The first trip up to London to select Edith's wedding dress had been rather hectic. Mama had come, and Mary and Granny and Cousin Isobel as well as Aunt Rosamund. And the bride of course. With so many strong minded women in the room, it was inevitable for a conflict of opinions to arise. Mama wanted lace, Mary thought silk. Isobel said short and Granny insisted long. Mama suggested sleeveless and Rosamund demanded quarter lengths. They all came to blows on the topic of necklines and war broke out over ivory or cream, (as if there was a difference.)

Edith, naturally, ended up hiding inside the dressing room, wearing nothing but her slip. It was really the only sensible thing to do. Remaining in the dressing room was by far the safest solution. And Edith knew by now what a pointless and bloody war looked like.

She listened in dismay as death threats were issued over a champagne satin. Champagne! Now her family was ruining alcohol for her. She had thought alcohol was safe and yet here it was, being tainted. Edith suppressed a shudder at the thought of there being a chocolate shade of wedding dress. Life wouldn't be worth living.

One of the shop assistants quietly popped her head around the corner and smiled sympathetically. Edith grinned in thanks as the assistant handed her a slice of cake to feast upon while she waited for it to be safe to emerge.

"I'm awfully sorry about all this," Edith whispered, anxious not to be overheard and be dragged back into the throng.

The shop assistant laughed slightly. "Don't worry about it your Ladyship. This isn't the first time a fight has broken out. And you aren't the first bride I had to bring provisions to while she waited out the bloodshed in a dressing room. I daresay you won't be the last either,"

Edith smiled ruefully, "Even so, I'm sorry for my family's behaviour. They aren't usually this mad," Edith took a bite of cake (chocolate and raspberry for anyone who is wondering) and swallowed, "Actually, that is a complete and utter lie. They are always this mad. They just usually tend to be better at hiding it,"

"Weddings have a habit of bringing out the inner madness in us all," the assistant noted, "And funerals,"

Edith grimaced, "I rather suspect that we shall soon be seeing one of those soon,"

And with that, Edith was left to her cake. She was glad that she thought to bring a book along, which she used to entertain herself as she waited for the horror to die down. Straining her ears, she tried to gather whether or not an amnesty agreement had been reached yet. She sighed in defeat. They were now on the topic of shoes.

She was going to need a bigger cake.

DA

In the end, the war had been for nought. For one, the wedding dress was utterly gorgeous. Secondly, Edith was so entirely, completely happy that she shone like a stream of sunlight. Her radiance was so great that she would have been mesmerising even gowned in a rubbish bag. Bertie certainly didn't seem to notice the dress. He was so absorbed with his bride that he didn't seem quite capable of breaking his eyes away from her. They were fixed on her glowing face the entire time.

And of course, it really didn't matter what the dress looked like. By the end of the night, it was thrown in a crumpled heap upon the floor. Completely abandoned. The happy couple had more important things to worry about.


	11. Girls' Night

"So," Laura began as Edith handed her a bowel of double chocolate fudge ice-cream, "Have you spoken to Tom recently?"

"Nu-uh, no way," Edith shook her head violently, taking her seat next to Laura, "We are not talking about men tonight. Men are a strictly banned subject,"

"I am pretty sure that's censorship," Laura complained, pouting.

"Don't care," Edith shrugged, switching on the TV "No men,"

Edith dug in her spoon and scooped up a large teaspoon of ice-cream, not really giving a damn that it didn't quite fit into her mouth. Dark chocolate was smeared round her lips and cheeks, matching the stains on her shirt. Her un-brushed hair was in a sloppy bun and her too large jogging bottoms had tears in the knee. She wore no make-up, and showering had become something from a distant dream.

Having finished her ice-cream, Edith moved onto the meatball pizza. Her mouth full of cheese and tomato and minced meat, she said "The only men allowed in this room tonight are wizards. Absolutely no muggles,"

"I thought you and Bertie had an 'amicable break'? No silly name calling or moaning, and now here you are. Actually calling Bertie a muggle!" Laura pointed out in mock chastisement.

Edith just humphed and slouched onto the sofa.

"What happened to 'mutual split'? Didn't you both decide that it was for the best?"

Edith rolled her eyes. "Look at me Laura, do I look like someone who chose to break up with their boyfriend?"

"No. And you don't smell like one either,"

Edith responded by chucking a pillow at Laura's head, causing Laura to laugh and respond with a cushion of her own. A pillow fight soon broke out and laughter filled the room. Laura jumped off the sofa, throwing aside her blanket, and running to the other side of the room. Edith gave chase. In order to reach Laura, she ran over the coffee table, casing snacks and drinks to fly off the table and spill over the carpet. She giggled manically as she whacked Laura repeatedly, until the pillow exploded in a cloud of feathers.

Edith paused, and took in the wreckage. The room had started out so neat and pristine. A veritable safe haven. And now, it was just a mess. Burst cushions, spilled drinks and shattered wine glasses lay scattered over the floor. It was going to take hours to clean.

Edith suddenly felt very weary. Collapsing to the ground, she sat in a huddle on the floor. She curled up in a ball and broke out into tired, wretched sobs. Throughout the whole ordeal she had tried so hard to put on a brave face, and now here she was. Wailing like a baby.

Laura gently sat down by Edith and wrapped her arms around her, rocking her as though she were a child. Relieved to finally let it all out, Edith sobbed and screamed until she had no more tears left to cry. She gave a shuddering gasp, before relaxing in Laura's arms.

"Edith?" Laura asked gently.

"Hmm?" Edith replied into Laura's jumper.

"Do you want to have a shower while I clean this up?"

Edith nodded in agreement, before unwillingly detaching herself from Laura and climbing into the shower. Powerful jets of hot water poured comfortingly onto her head and trickled down her back. She sighed in contentment. That first shower after a break up was always the best.

She had just begun shampooing her hair when the doorbell rang. Curious as to who would be calling at that hour, she turned off the shower and went to listen at the bathroom door, sopping wet. Her heart caught in her throat at the sound of Laura's surprised "Bertie!"

"Where's Edith?" Bertie demanded anxiously, "I have to talk to her. Is she in?"

"That depends on what you want to talk to her about," Laura replied in an icy voice.

"I need to tell her that I want her back,"

Lips thinning, Edith pushed out the door and marched into the living room. She stood straight back and proud, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"Edith..." Bertie stuttered.

"And what makes you think that I want you back?" Edith asked coldly.

"Edith-" Bertie began.

"Do you honestly think that you can walk back here, after all this time and start all over?" Edith said with great dignity, or at least, what she thought was great dignity. She realised that she instead looked very undignified, completely starkers and covered in soap. In a proud voice, she said, "I will speak with you momentarily," before returning to the bathroom.

Granny always said that no matter what you do, as long as you do it with enough pride and act as though everyone not doing it was in the wrong, you can get away with everything. Edith noted her appearance in the mirror and bashed her head against the glass. She was soaking and her hair was covered in bubbles from the shampoo. 'Sorry Granny,' Edith thought, 'But even you couldn't get away with this one,"

She hurriedly finished her shower and pulled on her dressing gown, tying it securely. She then returned to the bathroom door and peaked out cautiously. She could not help smiling slightly a she watched Bertie insist that Laura sit down as he tidied up. How could she say no to him?

Edith returned to the living room, now decent, and sat grandly on the armchair.

"Alright Bertie," she began, "I'm willing to talk,"

Unsure where to begin, Bertie took a few steps forward, then back again. He sat on the sofa, fidgeted for a moment, before standing back up.

"I was an idiot," he confessed, "I was stupid and proud and I shouldn't have called it off,"

"I thought that you both agreed to end it?" Laura intoned, before quieting under Edith's glare.

"Do you really want me back though?" Edith asked doubtfully, "The situation hasn't changed. And if not then please do not get my hopes up,"

Bertie sat beside her and reached for her hand. "I know the situation hasn't changed, but I also know that anything else I feel is nothing compared to what I feel for you. And that if I hadn't at least tried to win you back, I would regret it forever. A life without you could never be as happy as the one we could have had,"

Bertie anxiously took Edith's other hand in his and looked into her eyes hopefully. "The life we could have,"

Edith's face softened, "Oh Bertie," she sighed, "How could I refuse you after that?"

She leaned in to kiss him, only for Laura to call out "Hey! What happened to no men tonight,"

Edith turned towards her and laughed, "Tom's number is in my address book," Laura ran to get the book and Edith returned to Bertie, who was beaming down at her in delight. Gently, he tipped his head forwards and pressed his lips against her own. Edith, deliriously happy, smiled in delight and kissed him back.

They broke away and fell back against the armchair, pressed tightly against each other.

"Edith," Bertie whispered gently.

"Hmm?" Edith asked, nuzzling into his neck.

"When was the last time you brushed your teeth?"


	12. Home Alone

Edith Crawley was a strong independent woman. She had a career, friends and a fantastic new flat. She did not need a man. And she did not need to live at home with mummy and daddy. Nor did she need daddy to buy her a flat in a gated community so safe that men in vans actually do just want to give you sweets. She could stand on her own two feet.

True, her new place had slight draft. And if she wanted a signal for her phone she would have to lean outside her bathroom window. And yes, the police had called round once or twice. But it turned out to be a suicide in the end, so it was all good.

Everything had been unpacked. Beds made and TV set up. And Edith was left alone. She celebrated in her new found freedom with ice cream and telly. She luxuriated in feeling of being completely alone. That is, until the sun set and it turned dark.

Edith had never been alone in a house before. Not at night. She was twenty eight and had never been alone when it was dark. She hadn't noticed it at first, she was so engrossed in the TV. But when she paused to get some more ice cream, she realised just how dark it was. She stood in the kitchen doorway, taking in the silence. She could hear every creak and hiss from the pipes. From the corner of her eye she saw that her bathroom door was slightly ajar, lights off. She quickly turned on the lights before racing to the sofa and flipping the TV on at full volume, heart pounding.

She had just began to calm down when she heard a knock at the door. She didn't know anyone, so who could it be? Instead of getting up to answer it she stayed firmly rooted to the sofa, desperately praying for whoever it was to go away. More knocking, louder this time.

"Come on, open up!" a male voice cried.

Oh God! Why didn't she just stay at Downton? What was the point of having freedom if you were decapitated? The knocking continued, getting louder and louder. Edith clutched her duvet and fixed her eyes on the screen, unable to pay attention to the story.

"Look, I don't have time for this. Let me in!" the voice continued, sounding frustrated.

Definitely should have stayed at Downton. So what if it she would end up spending a lifetime of having Mary snipe at her and seeing her mother's dismay every time she looked at her? And if it meant she would never lose her virginity because all the boys in the village had decided she wasn't worth risking her father's wrath for? After all, everyone knows that the virgin is last to die in a horror.

"This is the last time I'm saying it, let me in!"

That was it, Edith had to do something. Trying to sound brave and not at all as those she was close to peeing herself she shouted back "If you do not leave this instant I am calling the police!"

There was a short silence, in which Edith waited in fear of the voice's response.

"Oh Crap! I am so very sorry. This is... bugger! I got the wrong flat. I really am so terribly sorry,"

Edith's hands were beginning to regain some feeling. He had the wrong house. Oh thank God, he did not want to disembowel her! What a relief.

"Please accept my apology," the voice continued, "I'm afraid that I mixed the number up,"

Edith nodded numbly, "It's alright," she called back in a shaky voice, unsure what to say next.

Another short silence.

"Alright then," the voice said, sounding rather embarrassed. "...Good night,"

Edith shook her head in disbelief. "Good night," she replied.

"And umm... sleep well,"

She listened as the unknown man's footsteps faded away, before sinking back against her cushions, eyes wide in shock. "Sleep well?" she repeated, "Not bloody likely,"

DA

She did fall asleep in the end, on the sofa in front of the TV and with her phone close at hand. By the time Edith awoke, sun had arrived and not even the bathroom seemed scary anymore. She had just finished getting dressed when once more she heard a knock at the door. This time she opened it, to find a sheepish looking young man anxiously holding a cake tin.

"Hello," he said nervously. She instantly recognised his voice, "I don't know if you remeber me.."

Edith smiled tightly, "Oh I remember you," she confirmed.

"I just- I would like to say sorry for last nigth. You see, my roomate and I live a few doors down and well, he has a habit of going to sleep with the door locked. Plus he's a heavy sleeper so..." he trailed off, not looking Edith in the face.

"It's alright," Edith reasurred him gently, "I understand,"

The man shot her a quick, thankful grin. "Even so," he said, sounding slightly more at ease, "I would like to make it up to you. Please accept this by way of an apology,"

At this he proffered the cake tin. He fumbled with the lid to reveal a heavenly looking chocolate cake inside. Edith supressed the urge to let out a longing groan, already imagining the chocolate oozing round her teeth.

"It's dark chocolate, rasberry and cream," the man explained, before adding quickly, "I didn't know what you liked so I had to guess. I wanted to make an effort but if you don't like the extra bits then you can just scrape them off,"

Edith shook her head, smiling brightly. She tore her eyes away from the cake long enough to say "Thank you, it's perfect,"

"I am glad," he said, returning her smile, "It's one of my favourites,"

"Oh mine too!" she paused, "Would you like to come in and have some?"

"Oh no, I have to get going," he replied quickly, "Have a nice day and I hope you enjoy the cake," he said, before giving her a quick nod and briskly walking down the hall.

"Wait!" Edith called out after him, "What's your name,"

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her.

"It's Bertie," he answered, "Bertie Pelham," and with that he was gone.

Edith lingered in the doorway for a moment, smiling, before heading back to the kitchen. She pulled out a large spoon, set the cake on a plate and headed back to the living room. She sat down in front of the telly and dug in, groaning in delight at the rich, gooey chocolate. Edith Crawley was a strong, independant woman who didn't need a man.

But that doesn't mean she didn't _want_ one.


	13. Theatre

Theatre/ Noel Streatfiel AU-set in 1930's London.

Tagging along with her Governess to watch Mary's audition had not been Edith's idea. But with Sybil at her extra Ballet classes and both her parents out, there was nothing to do at the house. She had initially planned to go to the park with Nanny, but Nanny's knee was playing up and had to go see the Doctor. Desperate to blow off some cobwebs, Edith had been forced to go with Mrs Hughes and Mary to the Princess theatre and watch Mary attempt Shakespeare.

Mary had been cast as a lead in two pantomimes by the time she was fifteen, as well as a principal in several other plays, and at the age of seventeen she had parts in several modern plays for which she had received good notices. This was her first stab at Shakespeare. Edith had only been in the chorus once or twice, and even then in small and unimportant productions, her dancing and singing being rather pedestrian. Their father, Sir Robert Crawley, was a famous and distinguished Shakespearean actor and naturally his daughters were to follow in his footsteps. At the age of five they had been enrolled in the best theatrical academy in London.

Sybil had proved to be a gifted dancer, but it was Mary that had people excited. It was clear she was to be the one to live up to the Crawley name and become a great actress. Everyone said that she was destined to be a famous film star, after all she had the looks for it. All her teachers treated her as something really quite special, as did her family and the staff. As a result she grew up knowing herself to be a rather extraordinary girl. This was shown in her acting. Every part she played was with confidence and charm. She delivered every line fluently and with ease, certain of her own genius and talent.

What Mary did not know, but Edith did, was that Mary's acting teachers had not wanted her to try for this audition. They did not think she was ready. It was the part of Lady Macbeth, and they all agreed the part was not suited for Mary. Edith had overheard them telling her father so, and as Mary began to speak, she could see what they meant.

Mary was reciting the same speech Edith had learned for her audition piece, and as such Edith felt a great deal of pain listening to Mary butcher the same words Edith had spent hours pouring over, throwing her heart and soul into each line. Edith knew what the character was saying, and how the character felt. Mary quite clearly didn't.

She was simply reciting. Charmingly, fluently and with great confidence. But with feeling and expression? No. All she did was over-pronounce or place emphasis on a word when necessary. And so certain was she that the part was hers, she did it all with a proud smile on her face that was completely inappropriate for the character. Not for a woman driven near to madness.

Edith sat cringing in her seat. In order to block out Mary's reciting, she began to quietly murmur the words to herself. She did so under her breath, so no one would hear. But as she got to a rather dramatic point, her voice grew loud enough to catch the attention of the actor playing Macbeth, who was sitting a few seats back where Edith had not seen him.

The actor, a Mr Pelham, had also been suffering at Mary's poor attempts and so had been glad to spot a kindred spirit who felt exactly the same way he did. He listened to the young blonde girl's whispering and found that it did a great deal to wash away the bad taste Mary's recitation had left in his mouth. In fact, it was clear that she was really quite good. The girl understood not only the rhythm and pace of the speech, but what the character actually felt. A light bulb went off in his head.

Mary's speech finally came to an end and Mary stood confidently, hands folded and waited for the Director to speak. When he did, he barely looked at her. Mr Richard 'Dickie' Grey was a very polite man, but busy. He had quickly seen that Mary was not what he was looking for. Her looks, although pretty, were not the 'otherness' he had been hoping for, and her reciting had certainly not made up for that. As a result he had spent a great deal of Mary's audition discretely going through paperwork and waiting for Mary to finish.

"Very nice my dear," he said, "Is that all of them?" he asked his assistant. The Director had decided to cast someone young as Lady Macbeth, to make her ruthlessness and descent into insanity more jarring. But he doubted Miss Mary would do. Yet he needed the cast sorted soon, and was anxious to find a suitable actress. Desperate, some might say. Especially as having a Crawley in his production would be sure to draw a great deal of attention and interest from the critics. His last two productions were not flops exactly, but largely forgettable. He needed something to draw the crowds, and he had hoped Miss Mary Crawley would be that.

"I think so," his assistant, a Mr Molesley replied.

It was at this point Bertie stood up. "Well what about this one?" he said, placing a hand on Edith's shoulder. Edith blushed and looked at her feet.

"Oh, I'm not auditioning," she stammered.

However, Mr Grey was looking at her curiously. There was something in her face he found rather interesting. She had a hooked nose and thin lips, but also lovely almond shaped eyes and high cheekbones. As a result her face looked, to him, rather unique and delicate. It had the 'Otherness'. He beckoned her forward.

"Are you an actress too?" he asked.

Mary scoffed but Mrs Hughes cut in "She attends the same Academy as her sister,"

"And do you have a piece prepared?"

"She does," Bertie assured them, "It's the same speech as Miss Mary's if it pleases you,"

"Alright then Duckie, hop on stage and let's see what you can do,"

"Go on Darling," Mrs Hughes said, "Give me your coat. Mary, come sit by me,"

Mary had been watching the scene with growing disbelief, but was too proud to show it. So she smiled a forced but polite smile and sat beside Mrs Hughes, comforting herself with the thought that Edith was sure to mess up anyway.

Edith stumbled to the stage, unable to comprehend what was happening. Her hands were slick with sweat and bunched up by her side. She blinked in confusion and looked at the small crowd waiting for her to speak. She wiped her clammy hands down her skirts, unable to dry them. Looking up, she caught Mary's scornful face and quickly looked down at her hands which had began to shake. Dimly, it occurred to her that if she were to begin, her current pose would be entirely appropriate.

"Out Damn spot," she said in a shaky voice, before remembering to project, "Out I say,"

She did not get it perfect the first time, and Mr Grey asked her to repeat the speech several times. Eventually, he was satisfied and gestured for her to get off the stage and re-join her Governess and sister, which Edith did with relief.

Mary's face had gone from scornful to sour, a sourness that only increased as Mr Molesley approached the trio and informed Edith she would be wanted for a call back the next day.

"What?" Edith spluttered.

"They want you do a scene with Macbeth, to see how you two work together. Go through their first scene together and be back here at twelve o'clock,"

Edith, whose mouth had been hanging open like a dead fish, beamed. Shaking with excitement, she swore that she would.

"Mrs Hughes, would you go through it with me when we get back?"

Mrs Hughes smiled down at Edith, her own lips twitching when she saw the delight on Edith's face. And the horror on Mary's.

"Of course I will Darling," she reassured her.

Breaking away from the Director, Bertie Pelham came up to the group, a friendly smile on his face.

"Well done you two, you clearly both know your Shakespeare," he said politely.

Mary raised an eyebrow and turned her cheek with a humph. Unperturbed, he turned to address Edith.

"I suppose I will be seeing you tomorrow Miss Edith. Hopefully this means we will be seeing a lot of each other from now," he said, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks that Edith did not notice, too busy was she looking into his gentle blue eyes an blushing herself.

"Hopefully," she agreed.

Bertie smiled again and ducked his head.

"I look forward to it," he admitted, before breaking away.

 _"So do I,"_ Edith thought, _"And how!"_


	14. Job

AN: some swearing this chapter.

This was the tenth interview she had gone to and nada. She spent all night sitting up on her laptop, waiting for an email. They had said she would hear from them last night, but by three am Edith had been forced to concede that she would not be hearing back from them. Ten interviews, and only three had the courtesy of actually letting her know she had not got the job. By this point, it was not the rejection that got to her, but the rudeness.

Ok, the rejection hurt a bit two.

Mary had not held back her comments when she saw Edith at breakfast that morning, eyes red and hair a mess, but this time Edith was too tired and too fucking depressed to respond. No one else said anything, but Robert rolled his eyes at the both of them when Mary started. Edith felt this to be extremely unfair of Robert when Mary had in fact started it and she didn't even join in this time. Although Edith not trying to get Mary to eat her words (with limited success) was a rare occurrence. For a house with over one hundred rooms, Downton as too small for the two of the.

Downton just felt too small altogether for Edith. She longed to be back in London. She missed the constant movement. Missed watching people go about their lives from the top of the number two bus and her early morning coffee and cake at Starbucks before her morning lecture. God, how she missed the buzz that came from staying awake from nothing but caffeine and a general excitement of what the day would bring. And the night. Not every night, but on the odd Saturday or Friday, she would go out. She loved going out clubbing and drinking, just going wild and laughing so loud she could be heard above the music. And afterwards, stepping out into the night where the fresh air cooled her cheeks and the streetlights shone down on her like a spotlight. She'd walk back to her shared flat arm in arm with her roommates, giggling and stumbling in her ludicrous heels. Then collapse onto her bed, sometimes too whacked out to even pull her shoes off, before the adrenaline left her and she would pass out in her evening wear.

Her time at university now seemed like a distant dream. It was like a different world. She had friends who adored her, her work always seemed to impress and she just seemed to walk so much straighter than she had at Downton, with a constant bounce in her step.

Now back at her parent's house, she slumped and dragged her feet. The first few days back had quickly reminded Edith of her place in her family, but she had not began to believe it again until three interviews in and still no job offers. Now she had been back there with Mary and Robert and Cora for three months and instead of walking with a bounce she seemed to shuffle like a zombie. Whereas a few cups of coffee used to keep Edith going for a day and night, nothing seemed to be able to pull her from the lethargy that came from spending time with her family. And there was no buzz to be found from always seeing 'that drag' in the mirror.

London now seemed like Nirvana. Her own Emerald City. Getting off that platform felt like entering Diagon Alley for the first time. Every time she returned to London she was reminded of the woman she could be in such a place. Whereas Mary seemed to live and breathe the glorious grounds and luscious landscapes that was Downton Abbey, Edith knew that her destiny was held in the concrete, polluted streets of London.

On a technicality, Edith knew that she could leave any time, but it would be on her father's money. And when she left she wanted to leave. She had no wish to be bound to her family any more than she already was. That rope that kept her tethered to her family felt tight enough, frayed and thin as it was, and she had no wish to be bound anymore to them. And the bonds of money were much stronger than that of family. At least in that family. The family she found whilst sharing one dingy bathroom and a communal kitchen where people kept stealing her chocolate bourbons were much more precious to her. Thank God they had not abandoned her, forgetting about her buried away in Yorkshire. She would be seeing them soon. Bertie and Thomas and Audrey and Jimmy and Laura. They were meeting up for a play and then drinks afterwards next Friday.

But even that caused her an ache. The longer and longer she stayed at home, the more like her old self she became, and she did not want them to see her like that. Even if for one night, that confident woman reappeared, to simply have a taste of that before it was taken away from her again would hurt too much.

No, Edith decided, this time next Friday she would have a job. It could be a job cleaning out the bogs at McDonalds, she would be working.

On that thought, Edith abruptly stood up from the breakfast able, scraping her chair against the floor as she did. She turned round and without another word headed straight for her bedroom. There she packed all her things, ready to be taken to London at a moments notice, and gathered her purse and phone and portfolio of work before making her way back downstairs. There Mary saw her and rolled her eyes.

"Was is necessary to make such a scene at breakfast this morning Edith?" Mary sneered.

Edith smiled pleasantly, "Yes, I did make quite a scene didn't I?" she chirped, holding back a laugh at Mary's taken aback face, before leaning over and planting a peck on Mary's cheek.

"'I'm off," she said brightly, "Have a lovely day,"

Not glancing back to see Mary's reaction to Edith's outburst of affection, Edith bounded down the drive and grabbed her bike to cycle to the station. She was going to get a job. She was going to spend this day and the next day and every day after that trailing the streets of London looking for work until she found it.

With this plan in mind, and a steely determination filling her, Edith felt like London Edith again. And this time she was determined to remain so. Even with her family surrounding her. It was no good being proud and confident if she only felt so when she was surrounded by people fawning over her, otherwise she might as well be Mary. No, she knew what she was capable of and had every reason to look at herself with pride. She was worthy, and she was clever. And she was going to get a job.

DA

Two days later and it happened. One of the magazines she had applied to gave her the address of a small publication in need of a junior researcher. The job was in a small office and poorly paid, but when she entered the building the smell of coffee and ink made her heart well.

She had applied and got an interview and was, as the manager who was interviewing her pointed out, vastly over qualified. Her achievements at Uni and her work placements all suggested that she could find much better paid work. But Edith had been looking everywhere for a job and the feeling of finally having an offer was simply divine, so the prospect of starting relatively close to bottom was not as daunting so much as incredibly promising. To start from the bottom and work to the top gave her so many opportunities to feel the same again. Each promotion and advance in her career would be a victory and she was relishing the challenge in advance.

She was offered the job and broke out into a dance on the spot, charming the manager who was glad to see someone so happy to be working for her publication. Edith stepped out into the street, beaming from ear to ear and head in the clouds. So was so caught up in her own joy that she barely noticed the dark haired, blue eyed man that she walked straight into.

"Bertie!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek.

"Hello Edith," he replied, hugging her with one arm, "How've you been?"

"Good, just been job hunting,"

"Any luck?" he asked.

"All the more for seeing you,"

"But not in the job search?"

Edith shook her head. She thought about all the hours she had put into applying for and attending interviews. All the hours she had spent walking over London and the blisters on her feet. And she thought of the luggage she had back home, waiting for her to drag up to London and to be checked into the cheap hotel she had found until she could find somewhere cheap to live. She thought of the office and the coffee and the number two bus rides that awaited her and she shook her head. No, she had no luck in the job search. Just a lot of hard work.

Edith grinned and took Bertie's hand into her own. "No luck," she agreed, "Are you busy? Do you fancy getting some lunch?"

"Sounds good," he replied, wrapping his arm round her shoulder as they set off down the street. Edith nestled her head against Bertie's shoulder and smiled to herself. A new job, a way out of Downton and lunch with Bertie, today was turning into a very good day after all. And only part of it was down to luck.


	15. Lies

With Mary and Sybil married, it was only a matter of time before Cora turned her matchmaking efforts towards Edith. Her crusade had begun at Mary's wedding, where she had tried to foist one drunk groomsman after another onto Edith. For example, there was the man who drank five glasses of champagne, vomited all over her Prada shoes, and then stole her glass of champagne and then vomited once more into her designer handbag, spewing champagne and partially digested canapes and roast beef all over the silk lining.

There was a second who had insisted on calling her 'Emma' all night, because he believed Edith to be 'an old woman's name, and you're too young and gorgeous to have the name of some spinster Librarian somewhere' and had then got on his hands and knees and attempted to tear off the bottom half of her knee-length dress in order to get her to show off 'those magnificent legs more'.

Finally, there was a third who spent the entire evening weeping onto her shoulder over the loss of his girlfriend, wailing about the fact that would never find love again as she was the most beautiful woman on the planet, and that next to her all other woman were like mangy dogs who were better off put to sleep. After that, she had attempted to go back to the man who called her Emma, who had at least told her that he liked her legs.

Unsurprisingly, none of these men had quite managed to capture Edith's heart.

Since then, she had taken to setting Edith up on blind dates, many of which had resulted in Edith chucking a bread roll at her date's head to cause a distraction, before crawling away on her hands and knees, ducking under tables and weaving through legs of other patrons, humming spy music as she went. On her last date, she had accidentally knocked over a passing waiter who had been carrying a platter of Crepes Suzette, and ended up starting a fire. Since then, Edith had resolved to put her foot down and make it quite clear to her mother that she had had enough of her matchmaking attempts.

Which obviously meant, lying through her teeth and making up weird and far fetched excuses as to why she could not go on a date.

The most inventive excuse so far had involved a cross dressing clock maker, a small Yorkshire Terrier, an Italian who made a living illegally smuggling penis shaped pasta into the country, and a rare french cheese that tasted like feet.

Edith's current excuse, however, Cora was having some difficulty buying.

"No mum! I'm telling the truth. I really do have a date tonight!" she cried into the phone. "Uhh, what's he like?" Edith bit her lip and frowned, "Nice, very nice,"

"Is that all? Well, what does he look like?"

"What does he look like?" Edith repeated. She scanned the lobby of her flat, desperately seeking some inspiration, when her eyes fell upon a dark haired young man who was faffing around with an umbrella and a large bag full of books.

"Brown hair," she replied promptly, "Casual dresser. Jeans and T-shirts mostly,"

The man looked up, and she caught sight of a rather nice pair of blue eyes. She quickly averted her gaze and focused on a fascinating poster on gum disease awareness. "Blue eyes,"

 _"How tall is he?"_

"How tall?" Edith tried to discretely peer round and check, only to see the young man staring at her, a rather confused look on his face. "How tall?" she said once more, turning to gaze directly at him. She was already rumbled, might as well just go with it. _'Help',_ she mouthed desperately

The man raised his eyebrow and pointed at his chest. At her nod he mouthed back ' _Five foot 9'_

"Five foot nine," she informed her mother. "His hobbies?" She smiled hopefully over at the man, who gestured towards his bag of books. "Reading. He reads a lot. Genre?"

The young man smiled and mimed holding a gun and talking into an ear piece. Despite herself, she giggled.

"Spy novels, mostly. Occupation?"

Edit squinted and tried to make out the words the young man mouthed to her.

"Ge-og-raphy tea-cher- Geography Teacher!" She smiled at him once more.

 _'Thank you,'_ she mouthed quietly, he nodded back at her with a grin.

"Yeah, he's a nice bloke," Edith finished, "Cute?"

The man's neck turned pink and he smiled sheepishly. Edith smirked into her phone. "Yeah, he's pretty cute. Yes, I will tell you how it went. Bye mum," and with that, she hung up the phone and threw a hand against her head.

"Phew!" she said dramatically, turning to face the man. "Thank you so much!"

"No problem," he said, walking over to join her "Trying to get out of a date?"

"Yep,"

"A trouble I know all too well,"

Edith smiled bashfully. "This is the seventh date I've managed to get out of. I really should just tell my mum the truth, but that is _never_ going to happen,"

The man smiled. "I quite understand. In my opinion, the truth is for Doctors, the Police and random strangers in a pub. Not for family,"

Edith laughed. "Even so, I really should try to cut down," she said, thinking of the time she had convinced her entire family that she was stranded in the middle of Mexico whilst handcuffed to a pregnant horse breeder just to get out of Sunday Dinner.

The man, looked at his feet and awkwardly thrust his hands into his pockets. "Well," he said, stammering slightly, "If you want to cut down on the number of lies you have been telling, I could help with that,"

"Oh yes, how so?" Edith inquired, noting the slight blush spreading across the man's cheeks.

"Well, for example, I could decrease the number of lies you have told your family by one," at this, he looked her in the eye and held out his hand, "The name is Bertie Pelham, and I was just wondering if you fancied grabbing some dinner together?"


	16. Stakeout 2

AN: Sequel to Stakeout

"I can't believe you two!" Edith screeched, face white with anger, "What do you think you were doing?"

Matthew and Tom shrunk cowardly shrunk back into their seats, exchanging nervous looks. Matthew longed to wipe the sweat that was steadily dripping down his forehead, but Edith had bound both his and Tom's hands behind their backs and was now circling them like a lioness.

With one look, Matthew could tell exactly what Tom was thinking. Cornered in the Library, faced with Edith's thunderous rage, murderous glare and the fact she was currently wielding the fire tongs, only one thing could be running through his mind. He wished he was wearing his leather jacket and sunglasses. Everyone felt braver when wearing leather jackets and sunglasses.

"Well?" Edith repeated, shaking so hard that Matthew feared that the fire tongs will fly out of her hand. He tensed his muscles and prepared to duck.

Tom, clearly the braver of the two, swallowed and spoke up. His face was white and clammy, rather like raw chicken, but still he managed to hold Edith's gaze.

"Look Edith, you have every reason to be angry," he said soothingly, "I know that we invaded your life, crossed boundaries and completely violated your privacy, yadda yadda yadda, but is that really so bad?"

Edith raised an eyebrow "Um... _yes,_ "

Matthew sighed, "Alright, as you're quite clearly determined to be unreasonable about this, why don't we explain to you exactly _why ._ The fact is, you are our sister and we love you. And watching you get your heart broken again and again hurt us too much for us to allow it to continue. You deserve so much more than what all the others could give you, and we wanted to make sure that you got it,"

Edith faltered, her grip on the fire tongs loosening slightly. "Really?"

Tom nodded, "Really. You are a wonderful person, even more than you think. And there are so already many people in your life who don't appreciate you the way they should, we didn't want your boyfriend to be the same,"

Edith blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging with tears. Matthew sighed with relief, glad to see that Edith was finally seeing reason "And that is why we made the perfectly reasonable decision to stalk you and interrogate your boyfriend," he concluded.

"You were stalking me!" Edith shrieked, tensing right back up. She held up the fire tongs menacingly, causing Matthew and Tom to gulp simultaneously

"Dude, she didn't know about that," Tom hissed, "Just the interrogation,"

"Oh, right," Matthew winced, he shot Edith a hasty look and whispered to Tom, "Do you think she knows about the surveillance cameras?"

"What!"

"Well _now_ she does,"

"What cameras?" Edith asked, her voice cold and calm, causing Matthew to think of a... think of a cucumber! But a violent one.

"Uhhhh..."

"What. Cameras?" she repeated.

"Just a couple outside your flat and your office," Tom reassured her.

"And?"

Matthew swallowed. "Inside your office and flat,"

"Where inside my flat?"

"Just like, you know, your living room and... and kitchen," Tom stuttered.

"And your bedroom," Matthew muttered under his breath, hoping she wouldn't catch it.

"What!"

"Well, it was just after you wrote that very interesting article about consent; great work by the way-"

"Great work," Tom agreed, "Your magazine is fantastic, I never miss an issue,"

"Very informative. Clearly a sign of its editors amazing intellect-"  
"Get back to the subject," Edith snapped.

"Well, after that very interesting article, we thought it important that we made sure that everything was good and respectful between you and Mr Pelham when the time came to it. We know that you could be especially vulnerable, with you being a virgin and all," Matthew explained.

"I am _not_ a virgin,"

Tom glared at her. "Yes you are," he said in a tone that brooked no refusal.

Edith sighed in frustration. "Honestly, what did you think I was doing when I stayed over at Michael's every night,"

"We assumed that you were putting on pyjamas and holding hands," Matthew said.  
"I honestly can't... how can you.." Edith stuttered, her entire body tensed and twitching, "I am not a child. I do not need taking care of and I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions,"

Matthew and Tom exchanged raised eyebrows.

"You're really not though," Matthew pointed out.

"What makes you say that? What have I ever done to make you think otherwise?"

"Do you want the list?"

Seeing that Edith was rapidly reaching her breaking point, Tom thought it best to try and placate her. "If it helps, we really think that Bertie is a great guy,"

Edith faltered. "Do you?"

"We do," Matthew agreed, "Really great,"

"Yeah, he's kind, friendly,"  
"Sweet, funny," Tom and Matthew sighed in unison, identical looks of dreamy adoration on both their faces.

Edith could not help but smile in pleasure, "Not to mention he's a great kisser,"  
"What!" Matthew demanded, "You kissed?"

"Uh, yes,"

"Not with tongues?" Tom pleaded.

Edith rolled her eyes. "Yes with tongues,"

"That's it," Matthew stated, "You two are getting married,"  
"What?"

Tom nodded in agreement, "As soon as possible,"

"I honestly cannot believe you two,"

"No man defiles our sister without making an honest woman out of her," Tom explained.

"You don't even believe in marriage," Edith pointed out, waving her fire tongs wildly, "You think that it is a modern form of slavery dating back to the time when women were nothing more than the property of her husbands,"

"Nevertheless, we insist that you marry Bertie Pelham immediately,"

Edith took a deep breath, closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened up her eyes again, she gave them a smile that was all teeth and no mercy.

"You seem to be insisting a lot for someone in your current situation,"

Tom swallowed, blinking the sweat from his eyes. Oh, right. The fire tongs.

From the hallway, two lurking figures shook their heads in disapproval.

"Fools, the both of them, bloody fools," one said.

"Should we intervene?" asked the other.

"No, they should have known better than to approach the target directly. This is their mess and they can get themselves out of it. At least we were able to be a bit more discrete,"

Rosamund turned to Violet. "I must ask you mother, how on Earth did you manage to get MI5 to help?"

Violet just smiled. "I have my ways. I just made one or two _friendly_ phone calls to the Intelligence officer, letting him know that what happens in Rio, doesn't necessarily stay in Rio," 


	17. Duty

AN: This story started a year ago today, so I figured that now would be a good time to finish. So I'm going to round it off with an Arranged Marriage AU, my absolute favourite.

"Do hold still Edith," the Queen Dowager snapped, "You are a Princess, not a farm-girl plagued by fleas. Now stop fidgeting and stand up straight,"

"My Lady Mother, there is no need to be so harsh," Queen Cora said placidly, "After all, she is to be married,"

"Exactly, it's only marriage, what has she got to worry about?"

"Marriage to a man I've never met!" Edith retorted, twisting round to face her Lady Grandmother, only to be pushed back in place by the impatient seamstress, who had been up every night for the last three months in her haste to have the Princess's wedding clothes ready.

Edith resumed her position and allowed the Seamstress and her army of assistants to flutter around, pulling laces and layering silks and velvets over her until she would have drooped from the sheer weight, had her tightly drawn Stays not stiffly held her up.

"Well if you have never met him, how can you have anything to be concerned about?" Queen Violet demanded.

"He is a King," Princess Mary, the Duchess of Crawley, cut in, her hand resting lightly on her swollen belly, "Surely that would be enough to give Edith cause for concern. Her, and all his subjects," she added.

Edith would have retorted, had she not agreed with everything her dear sister just said. What did Edith know about being a Queen? She could barely manage being a Princess.

She let out a shriek and jumped from the stool, throwing the entire room into disarray as the Seamstress and the maids hurried to put her back into place.

"Your Grace, do remain still!" the Seamstress snapped.

"You stuck me with pin," Edith glowered down on her.

"I will stop sticking you with pins when you stop moving,"

"I will stop moving when you stop sticking me with pins!"

"Edith!" Queen Cora snapped, "Apologise to Lady Susan,"

Edith tried to calm herself with a deep breathe, only for those wretched Stays to stop her once more. Maud never tied them so tight. Did Lady Susan tie them especially for the wedding, or was it just because she didn't like her?

"I beg your pardon, Lady Susan. Do forgive me, it was only the nerves,"

Lady Susan pursed her lips, nodded, and stabbed her once more in the thigh. Edith bit her lip and remained silent, trying to focus on the tapestries on the wall as the Ladies swarmed around her, discussing trimmings and jewels.

Cora, looking up from the length of blue velvet she had been examining and took in Edith's pale face.

"I think that will do for today," she announced, "The gown looks splendid, thank you Lady Susan. If everyone would be so good as to depart, I would like some time alone with the Princess,"

Once the gown was removed and Edith was left in her under-things, the Queen-Dowager lead Princess Mary and the ladies from the room, leaving only Edith and Cora.

"Oh Darling," Cora sighed, pulling Edith into her arms, "I understand exactly how you feel. When I left home to marry your father, all I had was a portrait to recognise him by," she smoothed down Edith's golden ringlets as Edith buried her face into her mother's shoulder like a little girl, "At least you will be close by, just across the sea. We she see each other often," she promised.

Edith looked into her mothers eyes, her chin quivering. "What if-" she choked, unable to get out the thought that had been churning inside her ever since the betrothal had been announced, "What if I fail? What if I let everyone down?"

"All you can do is try. And as terrifying as this all is, you cannot back out now. Not after what happened with Sybil,"

Edith grimaced, thinking of her beloved little sister, hidden away under house arrest in a convent somewhere, her dashing husband languishing in prison. Sybil had been engaged to Prince Lawrence, son of King Richard, only to flee the night before the betrothal and wed Tom, the stable hand.

Even Edith, ever the romantic, admitted that this was a singularly idiotic and selfish idea. As much as she sympathised with Sybil's reluctance to marry Prince Lawrence, her handling of the situation had been childish and thoughtless. Flaunting her preference for a stable hand over a Prince had made many of the nobles of Merton spit fire, and King Richard's acceptance of the situation had caused a division in the land that was verging on the edge of civil war.

Prince Lawrence was at this moment stewing in his castle, having wedded the daughter of Lord Cruikshanks and building an army large enough to take on the Capital.

King Robert had promised aide to King Richard in the upcoming war, and the alliance between the two families had finally been sealed with a match between King Richard and Lady Isobel Crawley, Mary's mother in law and mother to the future King.

But despite King Robert's promises, the land of Grantham was in no fit state to go to war. Harvests had failed, pestilence spread throughout the kingdom and famine overcame the land. People were starving in the thousands.

So when the King of Brancaster made his offer for an alliance between the two kingdoms, King Robert could practically hear angels singing. Wealthy and prosperous, the kingdom of Brancaster had swept in and saved the kingdom from almost certain ruin, providing the land with crops and livestock and sparing so many lives.

And Edith, dowdy, boring Edith, would be the flame in which this life saving alliance would be forged.

If she managed to please him.

For she could not deny the fear in her belly. Those viscous whispers in her head that asked the question over and over, _"What if he doesn't like you? What if he calls it off?"_

If she failed, her country would be destroyed and her people would die. She could not fail. She would be brave and she would do her duty.

Edith straightened her back, looked her mother in the eye and gave a single, curt nod. "I will not back out, Lady Mother, I know my duty,"

Queen Cora blinked rapidly and squeezed her daughter's hand. "I am proud of you my dear," she murmured softly, "Now, get changed and go for a walk. You have been stuck inside far too long and you should take this chance to be alone, it may be your last opportunity in a long time,"

DA

In her plainest grey wool gown, and her curls free from its pins and allowed to flow down her back, Edith stole out of the castle and made her way down to the beach.

The summer castle was her favourite, jutting out from a cliff and overlooking the sea. Whenever she got the chance, she would run off by herself and explore the caves cut into the rock, wading in the underground pools, or strolling along the beach and jumping the waves. Just her and the sound of the sea crashing against the cliffs.

She clambered onto the boulders that littered the beach, and leapt from one to the other, daring herself to take bigger and bolder leaps. She had done this a thousand times before, with barely a scratch, yet today she made a bad landing and slipped off the bolder with a shriek, her hand slicing itself against the jagged edge.

"Mistress!" a voice called, Edith whipped her head around to see a plainly attired man rush towards her, "Mistress, are you hurt?"

She looked up into the man's kindly face and smiled reassuringly.

"Tis but a cut, no need for concern,"

He sat down beside her and gently took the offending hand into his "Allow me," he said.

Edith watched as he carefully examined the cut, binding it with a length of cloth he tore from his jerkin.

"I do not know you," she said, "Are you here for the wedding,"

He looked up and smiled, "You could say so," he returned his attention to her hand, "And yourself,"

"I dare say that I will be attending,"

"I'll be sure to look for you,"

Edith smiled to herself, she would be easy to spot. She would be the one at the alter, stuffed into a monstrous gown of ivory satin, gold lace and pearls. She changed the subject.

"How long were you watching?"

"Long enough to see you make those jumps. I thought you were very bold," he tied off the bandage and patted it in satisfaction, smiling at her once again. It was a very nice smile. "I quite admired you,"

"Not many people would say that,"

"They would if they saw you make those jumps,"

Edith found herself smiling back.

"And yourself, do you enjoy climbing?"

The young man shook his head ruefully, "I am not as daring as I am afraid,"

"Swimming then?" Edith demanded, "I swim in the sea whenever I have the chance,"

"To be sure, I enjoy swimming,"

"Is that why you came down here?"

"No, actually, it was the caves that drew me down here. The beaches back home are full of them and I like nothing better than to explore them,"

Edith laughed. "I do to. I'm not actually meant to, especially by myself, but it's more fun alone," she blushed, "I call out and pretend the echoes are my friends,"

"Rory, Wendy and Moe,"

"What?"

The man laughed, his ears turning red, "The names of my friends living in the caves. Rory, Wendy and Moe. I've known them since I was little," he smiled, "I dare say you think I am mad,"

"Oh definitely. Those are ridiculous names. My friends are called Diamond, Ruby and Sapphire. Far better,"

"And what is your name?"

Edith bit her lip and turned to look at the sea, considering her answer for a moment.

"Edie," she said, "It's Edie. And yours?"

He kissed her bandaged palm. "Call me Bertie,"

DA

It was Matthew, the Duke of Crawley, who found her, weeping on the staircase.

"Sister, what is this?" he asked her, sitting beside her and wrapping an arm round her shoulder, "Why is our Bride to be weeping?"

"Merely nerves, nothing to worry about," she said hastily, wiping away her tears. Matthew caught her bandaged hand and raised an eyebrow.

"What happened to your hand?"  
"I cut on the rocks, it's just a sliver," Edith paused a moment, remembering the young man's kind smile and gentle hands, before breaking into floods of tears. "Oh Brother," she wept, "You are so lucky,"

"Edith, come now, tell me what is wrong,"  
Edith dabbed her eyes dry on the hem of her frock, "I have no regrets about the marriage," she said quickly, lest she be misunderstood, "I know it is my duty. But only now do I realise what it will cost me,"

"Edith, is there another?" Matthew asked in a quiet voice.

"No, and there never will be now,"

"You can't know that," Matthew pointed out, "I never expected to grow to love Mary the way I did, and look at us,"

Edith swallowed, "But what if he is cruel? What if he beats me and mocks me?"

"Then I say 'Damn the alliance' and I shall sweep you off to safety the moment I hear he has raised a hand or voice to you,"

"That would be foolish,"

"I am your brother am I not? And you are a Princess of Grantham as well as his betrothed. He will treat you with respect and kindness," he leaned forward and looked her straight in the eyes, "I will allow no harm to come to you sister, you can trust me,"

DA

It was his wedding day. He was to marry the daughter of a family known for the beauty of its princesses and form an alliance that would impact the entire world, yet all he could think of was the girl in grey he saw on the beach. Her laughter as she flew from one boulder to another, her golden curls streaming behind her.

As he waited in the Chapel Royal, he discretely tried to catch a glimpse of Edie. But the crowds were so great, and he dared not twist his head round too much less he looked nervous. A King cannot look nervous. He is sure of himself and his decisions. Others look towards him to lead, not to be lead.

He turned to face the altar and stared straight ahead, as the Choir sang and music played. A hush fell upon the room and he could feel the Princess be lead towards him by her father. He itched to turn around and get a good look at at, but remained staring resolutely at the Archbishop who stood before him. The music stopped and the Princess's hand was placed into his. A surge of sympathy welled within him as he felt it tremble in his grip and he gave it a quick, comforting squeeze. This elicited a slight gasp of pain from the Lady, and he quickly looked round to see what he had done to hurt her.

All he could do was stare. The Princess raised her head and her eyes widened as she met his. Then, a tentative smile tugged at her lips and she give him a quick, conspirational wink. Bertie found himself holding back gales of laughter as he turned to face the Archbishop, and judging from the twitching of his brides lips, she was fighting a similar battle.

All throughout the long, tedious ceremony, their eyes flickered towards each other and they exchanged secret smiles. Bertie waited until the Choir began to sing a hymn, before leaning over and whispering into her ear. "How's the hand?"

"Better," she whispered, "But then, it did receive excellent care,"

"Oh, did it?"

"Indeed. From a very nice man with a kind smile and gentle hands,"

"Oh, and who is this man? Do you know him well?"

"Not at all," Edith replied, smiling slightly, "But I am looking forward to getting to know him better. I am looking forward to it very much, indeed,"


End file.
